


Absolutely Necessary

by Cryptix23



Category: The Shadow (Pulp)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, M/M, in which The Shadow is definitely not at all motivated by jealousy, possessive touching, write all the cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6780952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptix23/pseuds/Cryptix23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's having some trouble with a suspect. The Shadow arranges a unique solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Absolutely Necessary

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for some fanfic prompts on tumblr, the more cliche the better. This was "Fake dating to infiltrate somewhere."

Harry Vincent was not in an enviable position.

This could be said about much of his life up til this point. He had certainly been in far worse.

Unarmed, trapped in a tiny back-hall with a potential murderer closing in on the only unlocked door -- well, for an agent of The Shadow, that was practically mundane.

Only ten days ago, Harry had arrived at the estate of Antoine Lemaire in the French countryside. A series of daring murders had taken place across Europe in the month previous. Harry was sure that the great mind of The Shadow had tracked the murderer to this estate.

A half-dozen guests were in attendance when Harry arrived. Several more had joined since. Among those latter group was a tall, dignified American with a hawkish, inscrutable face. He was introduced as millionaire globe-trotter Lamont Cranston, but the keen glimmer of his eyes and the flash of a fire-opal on his finger told Harry a different story. The Shadow himself was on the scene.

Though the suspect list had narrowed, it still included several men. Chief among them, in Harry's mind, was Ollie Howland.

Initially, he would never have suspected Howland. The Englishman was a little older than Harry, with an easy smile, robust manner, and a distinctive reddish tint to his curling hair. Harry had liked him immediately, and it seemed Harry impressed him in return. The only point of suspicion were two nights where Howland stayed late in town.

After five days, Cranston had arrived, and with him came new orders for investigation. That's when things had gone downhill.

Ollie Howland had an uncanny knack for catching Harry just outside places that he shouldn't be. The first time Harry had brushed it off as happenstance. The second time, Harry barely bluffed his way out of. Suddenly he was very conscious of Howland's eyes on him, of his particular interest in Harry's movements, of his subtle inquiries as to what the other guests knew about their young American friend. (Cranston, of course, knew no more than anyone else. As far as the case was concerned they had never met before this gathering.)

Only this afternoon, Harry had inscribed his suspicions in a coded report and left it in Cranston's room -- only to be surprised at the door by none other than Howland. The man smiled, as usual, but there was a merry gleam in his eyes that struck Harry as sinister. Flustered, it was all Harry could do to excuse himself briskly.

New orders were present when Harry went to dress for dinner. He was to slip away after the meal to investigate the upstairs study. That he was still active despite Howland's suspicions surprised him.

Not a thought crossed his mind to question the orders. He'd have carried them out if they'd come from across the Atlantic. With his master close at hand, Harry was fearless.

Even now, with but a few feet and a flimsy door between him and Howland, Harry's only concern was that discovery would upset The Shadow's plans. He had been able to retreat into the disused hall behind the study, but the door at the other end was locked. Any moment now, Howland would find him, and this time Harry had no explanations.

A shadow passed over the light from the keyhole. Harry took a half-step back. It was instinct, nothing more -- there was nowhere to go.

Yet his shoulder brushed something. Before he had a chance to react, a hand materialized from behind him and spun him about. Strong hands gripped his arms. Bright eyes flashed in the darkness; a familiar sibilant voice hissed a command in Harry's ear. Instantly his keyed-up nerves relaxed.

A moment later, the actual content of the command sank in. "Kiss me."

Lips pressed against his. Smooth, firm, masterful; everything Harry had ever dared to imagine The Shadow's kiss would be. Harry made a frankly undignified little noise in the back of his throat and melted into The Shadow's hold without so much as a first thought, much less a second. He hardly felt his back press against the wall; in contrast, the warmth and pressure of the slender body against him was so vivid as to be unreal.

He only realized his eyes were closed when light suddenly flooded over the lids. The Shadow drew away. Only his grip on Harry's arms kept Harry from following.

"Howland!" Cranston exclaimed.

Harry's eyes snapped open. Lamont Cranston's aquiline profile rose above him, the normally masklike face registering alarm. Beside them was the opened door and Ollie Howland blinking owlishly. Harry could only imagine the sight that he presented.

"Vincent? ...Mister Cranston?"

Cranston stepped forward, smoothly moving between Harry and Howland. "I can explain, mister Howland, please," he said. Harry could no longer see his face, but could hear the imploring note in his voice. "Harry, go back to the sitting room. I'll handle this."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. He retreated into the main hall. As the door closed behind him he heard Howland start to speak again. "Mister Cranston, I--" The heavy door of the study cut him off.

The upstairs hallway was silent and empty. Harry tottered vaguely toward the stairs. His mind was a whirl of confused thoughts that kept spinning back to a single point: The Shadow kissed him. The Shadow. _Kissed him_. He laughed suddenly and had to clap a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise. A motion at the corner of his eyes made him turn.

A large ornamental mirror reflected his face back. His cheeks were flushed and his lips spread in a giddy grin. He touched his fingertips to his lips. _The Shadow kissed him_.

Loud laughter rose from the sitting room. Anxiety wiped the giddy smile away. Harry passed his hands over his hair and suit desperately, as if every stray strand and fabric crease broadcast his few seconds of indiscretion.

That done, he drifted into the sitting room. Chatter washed over him from the other guests. At one side of the room were a couple of vacant armchairs. Harry returned a few greetings mechanically as he crossed to the armchairs and sank into one. One of the men tried to engage him in conversation. He quickly gave up. Harry, lost in his thoughts, hardly noticed him.

The armchair was comfortable. Harry closed his eyes. He half expected to open them back in his room, to find that he'd somehow drifted off while dressing and nothing since had really happened. Everything about the last few minutes had a disconnected, dreamlike quality about it -- everything but Howland.

What was he saying, now, up there alone with Cranston? What effect would this have on their investigation? Had Harry mis-stepped somehow and ruined The Shadow's efforts? Harry's gut twisted. But no, he'd followed orders every step of the way. Even the kiss had been at The Shadow's command.

Why?

Long minutes passed while Harry's mind raced, his thoughts tripping over each other and tying themselves in knots and utterly failing to accomplish anything. The quarter-hour that passed might well have been an eternity.

"Vincent." A light touch roused Harry from his reverie. "May I have a word?" He looked up to find The Shadow's keen eyes watching him from Lamont Cranston's impassive face.

Harry quickly averted his gaze. Not trusting his voice, he simply nodded and rose at The Shadow's urging. Beyond he saw Howland joining the card game. Howland caught his glance. The smile on his face was knowing, now, with a hint of something else that Harry's distressed mind couldn't decipher.

The Shadow drew him out onto the veranda with a steady hand that glided from his shoulder to his lower back. There it lingered.

"I've explained matters to Howland's satisfaction," The Shadow said in low, even tones. "He now believes that we are lovers."

Harry's face burned. He opened his mouth. The hand on his back gave a quick, reassuring rub. Any words of objection died in Harry's throat.

The Shadow continued as though he hadn't noticed. "We met two months ago in Miami and have kept up a correspondence since, but in the interest of discretion we are claiming this is our first meeting. He has been lead to believe that each time he has surprised you, you have been waiting for me. He will keep our confidence and will no longer question any suspicious activity on your part."

"How do you--?" Harry managed.

"How do I know that he'll keep our secret?" The Shadow finished. "It happens that Howland understands our position. And is rather fond of you."

It took a moment before the import of those statements sank in. Realization hit like a truck. The 'something else' that he couldn't identify -- it was disappointment! Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or to kick himself over how far his suspicions had missed the mark.

The hand on his back shifted again before falling away. Suddenly Ollie Howland was the furthest thing from Harry's mind. He turned quickly.

Against the light from the sitting-room windows, The Shadow was only a dark silhouette, with eyes that glinted like stars. "Have a cigarette. Come back inside when you're calm."

Harry nodded. His cheeks still felt hot and his hands were trembling; he was sure to attract attention in this state. He watched as The Shadow glided away, the light transforming him back to Lamont Cranston. Turning away, Harry fished out a cigarette. It took five tries to light it with his unsteady fingers.

His eyes were drawn back to the sitting room. Cranston was entirely absorbed in conversation with their host, Lemaire. At the card table, Harry caught another brief glance from Howland.

Harry brushed his fingertips across his lips again.

This was going to be a very, very long case.


End file.
